Twist the knife
by Sapphire1112
Summary: Set during series 26, when Sam tries to give Dylan divorce papers. He's angry and hurt when his wife tries to divorce him - but her reasons for doing so are not what they seem and once he knows that, Dylan has his own way of dealing with things. I do not own the characters.
1. Chapter 1

**Sam**

I open my locker to retrieve my coat, when a disgruntled voice behind me, speaks.

"He was so happy this morning. I know he doesn't exactly show it – but then he never does, does he...He was _even_ wearing aftershave!"

"Yes. I noticed." I glance at her. She jabs her finger at me accusingly and I quickly turn back to my locker. She's fond of him – though not as fond as me. No one is as fond of him as I am. _No one._

"He was _happy_!" She repeats. "He thought he was getting you back - and then you served him divorce papers! He was happy and you're throwing him away like he's _nothing_!"

I slam my locker shut and spin around to face her. "You don't get it, Zoe, do you?" I snap angrily. "You just don't get it. I love my husband so much! _So much_. But I'm not good for him and I don't deserve him. I'm not 'throwing him away' – I'm letting him go because I'm toxic and he needs better than me... _but he doesn't understand that_..." I add in almost a whisper – for my husband's distraught face earlier - and his corresponding anger and hurtful comments come back to me like the shock of a jack-in-the-box. "He just doesn't understand." I repeat, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to find him and comfort him – but I can't.

It would just confuse the issue – and he probably wouldn't let me anyway.

Unable to see through the clouds in my mind, I flee out of the staffroom, out of the ED – and I want to keep on running. I want to run away from everything – from Dylan, from them all. For the first time in my life, I want to be a coward.

But running through a busy ambulance bay is not clever and I'm stopped in my tracks by his strong arms pulling me out of the path of a reversing ambulance.

" _You oaf!_ " He retorts gruffly.

I'm too shocked to speak – until I realise that he's purposefully pulling me back to the ED. "Dylan, I've finished my shift!" I complain. "I don't _want_ to go back in!"

"Yes well, I want – doesn't get, Sam." he responds dryly – calling the lift down, once we reach reception.

" _Dylan!_ " I protest as he pulls me in and presses down. " _Where_ are we going?!"

"Shh." He answers as the doors shut. "Don't make a scene...Right. Well..." He says, turning to me. "You've just nearly been knocked over by a bloody ambulance because you weren't looking where you were going, so I'm not convinced that it's safe to let you leave the hospital on your own." He informs me - as if I'm a naughty child and he's going to make me stand in the corner.

I sigh and lean back against the wall of the lift with my arms folded with my arms folded across my chest – mildly interested to see what his plan is.

We exit the lift in the basement and once again my interest is grasped.

 _Where are we going and what on earth are we doing in the basement?_ I follow behind Dylan as he retrieves a discarded bean bag from against the wall. I recognise it it as an old one from the relatives room. It must have been abandoned down here when they got the new ones, but the thing that intrigues me the most is Dylan's command of the place. He's walking around the basement as if he does so regularly.

 _Maybe he does!_

"Come here often – do you?" I inquire factiously.

"No." he answers perfectly seriously – as he does. He stops and opens the door to a largish storeroom – which conveniently has a key in the lock. He switches on the light and pokes his head in, before tossing the bean bag at an expanse of bare wall. "In you go." He states, stepping back to let me in.

I'm still not getting the point of this exercise, but they'll be a reason. Dylan always has a reason – just probably not a reason that would occur to anyone else. I cock my head to one side and raise my eyebrows at him questioningly.

He sighs. "Please?" He adds politely – obviously deciding that I'm waiting to be asked nicely.

That's the other thing. While no one else will have thought of the reason he's got – Dylan will have assumed it's a perfectly logical reason that _everybody's_ thought of. That's Dylan – eccentric and brilliant!

I feel myself blush slightly – though I'm not quite sure why. "Alright." I agree – and sidle past him obediently.

"Right." He continues as I turn back to face him. "I'll be finished my shift soon. I'll come back and get you."

" _Dylan!_ " I protest as he shuts the door. "What if there's a fire or something?!"

"I'll make sure you get out safely, sweetheart." He responds through the closed door.

 _'Sweetheart'?_

That surprises me. Wow. He _must_ be worried. Dylan has rarely used 'pet-names' for me – even back in the days before we were married, when he was trying to 'woo' me. Not that I needed much wooing. His brilliance spoke for itself – and I've always found him very attractive. I suppose some might find that strange – he's probably not what the average woman would deem 'fit'. Still – each to their own!

As he locks the door, he adds: "Have a nap or something. I'll see you later."

I listen to his footsteps disappearing, in slight bewilderment and then plop down on the bean bag.

 _'Have a nap'?! What, seriously?_

Well, this is different. I knew he was eccentric when I married him, but he's never locked me in a cupboard before. I know that he's not 'imprisoning' me though. As far as Dylan's concerned, he's doing this for my own good – so that he knows where I am until he finishes work and can 'walk' me home. Despite all his harsh comments earlier – some of which were actually quite hurtful, (though I certainly deserved them) he cares more than he wants to admit.

And it's now blindingly obvious that he will go to _any_ lengths to make sure I'm safe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Dylan**

At the end of my shift, I head back down to the basement and knock on the door. " _Sam?_ "

She doesn't answer, so I wonder whether she's fallen asleep, but when I unlock and open the door, she's ready and waiting come out.

"Well that was interesting – and certainly _new_." She comments sheepishly – sliding past me. "You've never locked me in a cupboard before...perhaps you should add _ropes_ next time." She adds – smirking delightedly at my shocked reaction to the latter comment.

I follow my wife back to the lift, still shocked into silence. However, as the doors close, I can't help but rest my hand lightly on the small of her back as I stand behind her. She seems quite happy for me to do so, but it's an unusual thing for me to do – like calling her ' _sweetheart_ ' earlier, but I do feel slightly bad about locking her in the cupboard. My reasons for doing so were good and it makes absolute _sense_ to me – but I could tell by her face that _she_ thinks I was being 'extreme' and that makes me feel bad – but I _have_ to keep her safe.

That's what I'm here for.

My conscience is also pricked because I've been really quite horrible to her today – it was the shock of her asking for a divorce, when I thought we were getting on better than we have for a long time. I was angry and upset – and I wanted her to know that. After her words to Zoe – which I haven't yet admitted to over-hearing, I realise that I got her completely wrong. She asked for a divorce, because she thought I'd have a better life away from her.

I have to admit that I was rather taken aback every time I gave her a hurtful comment – and she just stood there and took it. That's not like her at all. That's not like my Sam. She usually gives as good as she gets.

Upon leaving the lift, I go to the staffroom to get my coat. Sam, of course, is already wearing hers, but she follows me in anyway.

"Sam!" Tess exclaims in surprise. "I thought you'd gone – your shift finished ages ago!"

"Yes, well..." Sam retorts indignantly. " _My darling husband locked me in a cupboard_."

A shocked silence fills the room – as was _undoubtedly_ her intention. She looks rather satisfied with the reaction she got.

Mr Jordan shakes his head at us. "Dr Keogh. Dr Nicholls. I am aware that you have issues to deal with-"

"I think _everyone_ is." I mutter crossly.

"...but I would prefer it if you dealt with them outside of work!" He continues in an exasperated tone.

"Yes, Mr Jordan." Sam agrees with a smirk.

" _I was trying to keep you safe!_ " I retort at her – annoyed that my methods for doing so are being questioned.

"Well, come on then, grumpy!" She responds holding her hands up in a resigned manner. "Lead the way."

"He locked her in a cupboard?!" I hear Linda repeat as we leave – as though she's just been smacked in the face by a wet fish.

Great. Thanks Sam.

 **Sam**

Dylan offers me his arm as we cross the car park – I say 'offers', but I don't really get the opportunity to decline. Dylan can be very charming when he wants to be – in his own way. He has that air about him now – and it doesn't take him long to charm me, so I'm quite happy to accept his arm.

"I heard what you said to Zoe." He announces as we walk. "When she was having a go at you earlier." He adds – just to make sure I know what he's talking about.

"Oh." I answer. I mean – what else can I say? I hadn't banked on him over-hearing. If he over-heard the conversation, then he heard me say that I love him, which totally undermines what I've been trying to do. He'll never agree to a divorce now – because he knows that it's not really what I want at all. It explains how he was there to pull me out the way of the ambulance though. He must have run after me because I was upset and that makes my heart flutter despite trying to push him away.

"I wasn't eaves-dropping – the door was open." He explains in response to my silence – in case I'd assumed the former. It never crossed my mind.

I squeeze his arm. "I wouldn't think it was anything else, Dylan."

We reach the car and Dylan walks me around to the passenger side, before opening the door for me.

"Thank you." I say, getting in. He nods curtly and closes the door. After getting in the other side and closing his door, he watches me for a minute – making no move to turn the engine on. I stare ahead of me – knowing precisely what he's going to ask. Dylan finds the 'emotional' conversations difficult, so this is going to be awkward, but he apparently sees it as a conversation we need to have.

"If you love me, why are you asking for a divorce?"

I sigh and lean my head back against the headrest, closing my eyes fro a minute before I answer. I open them again and glance at him. "Dylan, if you heard the conversation with Zoe, then you _know_ why."

He nods. "You think you're 'toxic' and I'm better off without you – and that's why you didn't retaliate when I was horrible to you earlier." He continues as I look away from him – unable to look in his eyes any longer. "You think you deserve the way I was speaking to you – the things I said."

The atmosphere in the car is _thick_ with our feelings now and my strength for holding him at arm's length is wavering – my resolve weakening. I know that if I continue to look at him, I will lose the battle against my feelings. This is why we try _not_ to have these conversations. They can be so powerful that it hurts. It's far easier for both of us to deny ourselves the contact – and limit ourselves to long-distances. That's the reason for the ' _I don't really care about you_ ' attitude we both parade – it's the reason we wind each other up. It's also the reasoning behind the 'dry' remarks – though they do come quite naturally to Dylan anyway, It's just the type of man he is.

My need to seek comfort from the man I chose to marry is growing rapidly – and I don't know if I can stop it.

 _Do I really want to?_


	3. Chapter 3

**Dylan**

I decide I need to try a softer tone. It's something that never comes easily to me – and something I've only ever reserved for Sam, - and only on limited occasions, but she looks like she about to leave the car. It would be easier if she did – but marriage isn't supposed to be easy, and this is where we've failed so many times before.

Storm out and slam the door, when things get difficult – it's what we do best.

This time it's different though – Sam doesn't look like she wants to storm off – she looks like she wants to run away, and that worries me. Not least because it's the second time she run away from something today – or because last time she almost got run over in the process. It worries me more, because it's not like her. Running away is the last thing Sam would normally do.

A conversation we had during the cave rescue comes back to me – what was it she said?

'I wasn't scared of the dark – I was just scared of being in the dark with you.'

I didn't think she meant it – she was just trying to wind me up, but now I'm suddenly worried that she was serious.

Is my wife really scared of me? Is that why she keeps running away?

So I soften my tone.

 **Sam**

I bite my lip and consider opening the car door, and running away for the second time today. It's something he's obviously noticed, for after looking at my face, he puts his arm gently across my lap to stop me.

"Please don't." He says softening his tone. And he sounds so worried. Does he think I'm scared of him? I hope not.

Softening his tone is difficult for him, I know, because it doesn't come naturally, but he's making the effort and seeking reassurance that I'm not going to run away from him.

I close my eyes again, resigned. "I'm not going anywhere, Dylan."

Because I can't now - can I? Not after he's broken right back into the heart I was trying to harden against him.

"Good." He answers, and his relief is so touching. His arm remains where it – but not because he's trying to stop me from leaving now. "You think you don't deserve me." He mutters. "But..." He touches my face lightly with his warm hand before he continues. Such gestures are usually out-of-bounds in our relationship – but I miss him so much. "Don't you think..." He continues. "That it should be up to me to decide whether I'm better off without you?"

"Yeah. I guess." I answer eventually. I glance at him and he gives me one of his very rare smiles. They make his whole face light up - and they so rare that it's impossible not to smile back. He puts his hand over mine – which now rests on my knee.

I lift up my fingers so that they entwine with his. "Shame you cancelled that restaurant." I comment.

He clears his throat. "I...er...might have failed in that assignment." He states – in a way that only Dylan Keogh can.

"Oh?" The atmosphere of the car is much more comfortable to us now and it enables me to chuckle lightly. "Well, I wouldn't necessarily call that a failure, grumpy!"

"Shall we go then?" He asks.

"Mm-hm." I agree and he turns the engine on.

"Dervla probably needs letting out -and I should probably change my shirt." He remarks. "So, if we go back to mine first and then I'll take you back home so you can change before dinner – if you want to." He adds. "You look perfectly nice like that."

'Perfectly nice' is Dylan's equivalent of 'beautiful'.

"Thank you – but yes I will change." I tell him as we pull out of the car park.

It's quite busy where Dylan normally parks, so he pulls up on the other side of the road. Once we're out of the car, he holds his hand out to me. I raise my eyebrows at him.

"It's a road." He explains. "Its got cars – and ambulances and...things."

I sigh and give him my hand. "Yes Dylan."

Dervla is very pleased to see me when we get back to the boat and barks at me excitedly, jumping up. I'm not surprised – we always got on well and she hasn't seen me for a long time, but Dylan apparently can't understand it.

"Down, Dervla." He grunts. "What's the matter with you? It's just Sam."

"She's pleased to see me, that's all." I comment.

He answers me with an grunt. "Oh."

I ruffle the dog's head and glance up as she licks my hand in return. He looks mildly irritated.

"Don't tell me you're jealous of the dog?!" I chuckle, leaning up and giving Dylan a pacifying peck on the cheek. He looks much happier. I smile, satisfied that I've solved that one. "Come on then grumpy – go and get changed."

"Dylan, where's your duster?" I ask after a while.

He pokes his head around the door of his bedroom. "My what?"

He's in the process of putting a clean shirt on and my breath catches in my throat as I repeat my question. "Your duster...it's not a trick question, Dylan." I add as his expression contorts to thorough confusion. "There's dust everywhere – it's not healthy for you or Dervla." Something he should know – given that he's a doctor.

"Oh." He answers. "Duster...um..."

"Under the sink?" I suggest helpfully.

"Um...yeah. It might be." He agrees vaguely.

I open the cupboard in question and feel a stab in my heart. The duster is indeed in there – the same duster, in the same box I packed for him when we went our separate ways about a yeah ago. I knew it wouldn't occur to him to buy such a thing but, he must have put the box in the cupboard and forgot about it – probably a deliberate action at the time. We were both very hurt at the time of our split – Dylan, because I'd betrayed him – and me, because I felt that he didn't think I was worth fighting for – even before I had the affair. We're both very good – (or bad depending on how you look at it!) at ignoring things when they go wrong and this is a box I packed to try and care for him in my on-going absence. It was undoubtedly easier for him back then, to shove the box in a cupboard where he couldn't see it.

I glance back up to find Dylan watching me nervously. "Don't look so worried!" I exclaim. "I'm not going to move anything – I'll just dust a few surfaces while your getting ready."

 **Dylan**

When I go back out of my room, the place looks beautifully clean and I marvel at how fast she's worked – and how much care she's taken.

"Dylan!" I look up and Sam shakes her head at me with a sigh.

"What?" I retort, as she stands in front of me - still shaking her head in mild amusement.

"You've missed a button!" She comments, resting her hands on my chest. "Can't take you anywhere!"

"It shows how much I need you." I point out hopefully with a shrug, as she undoes my shirt again.

"...Or that you weren't concentrating." She chuckles, re-doing the buttons in the right order.

Personally, I still think it's the first one. I was angry and hurt when we split up, but I have missed her looking after me.


End file.
